


In Vino Veritas

by Amlovelies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Friendship, Isolation, Post-Break Up, Solavellan Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlovelies/pseuds/Amlovelies
Summary: Anyara Lavellan struggles in the wake of Corypheus' defeat and the disappearance of a certain apostate elf. Feeling increasing isolated and alone in the very human Inquisition, she attempts to come to terms with all the losses she has suffered in the last year. With the help of a bottle or two of wine, Dorian helps her heal and realize maybe she isn't as alone as she thought.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus, Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	In Vino Veritas

Anyara dragged her fingers along her cheekbones tracing where the familiar lines of her vallaslin used to run. It had been six weeks since Solas had removed it. Six weeks since her world changed in a moment, again. She still stopped sometimes, confused, when she saw her reflection. She looked so young without the tattoos. If she tried, she could almost imagine she was back with her clan, back before the conclave, back before she was so alone. Someone would invariably break her reverie, there was always something that needed her attention, needed the inquisitor's attention. 

It had been a month since the defeat of Corypheus. It had been, a month since Solas departure. With its purpose fulfilled, it was surprising that the Inquisition was busier than ever. The crisis may be passed, but so many parts of Thedas still needed their help. There were still Venatori agents to be defeated, supply lines to secure, and towns and villages to rebuild. It was the slow slog to normalcy that faced them now. It was no longer shiny and heroic. 

There was a time when Anyara thought her part to play in this would end quickly. That the breach would be closed and she would go home to her clan, assist Deshanna in choosing and training a new first and wait for the mark to claim her. Since that day first day she had known it would kill her eventually. The magic was too strange, too powerful for her body to hold for a lifetime. 

That had changed after Haven. So many things had changed after Haven. So many things had changed when they’d named her Inquisitor. It was never something she wanted. To be a figurehead to all these shems, to be a symbol of their Chantry, the same Chantry who destroyed the Dales and subjected her people to a lifetime of servitude and wandering. But she had been training most of her life to lead and it seemed the Creators had a sense of humor because she was intrinsically linked to the mess. Corypheus had declared her his adversary. She would only bring danger with her everywhere she went. No, it was better to stay and deal with the threat. It was all bad. She saw wonders she could never have imagines. She explored the Emerald Graves and learned more and more of her people's history. There was also the chance that an elf in her position might make things better for elves everywhere. 

There would come a time when it would end. Either Corypheus would be defeated or she would be. Then she could go back to her people. She could bring all of the knowledge she had gathered, all the resources she now had at her disposal. The anchor still meant she would die young, but at least she could give her clan so much with her life. 

That was before Wycomb, before the very shems she was protecting and fighting for killed her clan, her family out of prejudice and fear. Clan Lavellan was no more, the few survivors scattered to the winds. She hadn’t been able to protect them. Deshanna still lived and wrote to her, but Anyara couldn’t bring herself to face the Keeper knowing how she had failed. She’d made the wrong call and dammed everyone she cared about. 

There was no future she could imagine for herself. There would be no home to return to. Her life would be swallowed up the human’s world and concerns and she would remain alone. That had changed with four words, “ar lath ma, vhenan.” Slowly, she began to picture a future by his side exploring the world and the fade. Plumbing ancient ruins for the secrets of their shared history. He was her solace in such a cold, human place, and she’d lost that too. He’d taken that from her just like he’d taken her vallaslin. 

Even then she’d hoped. Maybe he was scared of what they meant to each other. Maybe once Corypheus was defeated she would pull the truth out of him; soothe his fears and they could find peace in each other's arms. The loneliness threatened to overwhelm her otherwise. She had to hold out hope or it would consume her. 

Except now it was over, and Solas was gone. It had been a month since the battle and his cryptic last words “what we had was real.” It was a cruelty really. Wouldn’t it have been so much easier if he had just called her a passing fancy, a mistake a lapse in judgement. 

“I think we need wine.” Dorian’s voice broke the spell of memories Anyara was under and she turned from the mirror to find the other mage standing in the center of her chambers. 

“I’m sorry, Dorian. Did we have an appointment? "she turned back to the and surreptitiously wiped away her tears. 

“I received a letter from Maevaris as well as those books you requested. I did not mean to disrupt your,” he paused for a moment perhaps deciding whether tact or levity would serve best in this situation, “meditations.” 

To be honest, Dorian was shocked. The Inquisitor was not a woman many would describe as emotional. Passionate, kind, and fearless, yes, but rarely did she let anyone she her in a more vulnerable state. It was there if anyone looked close enough, it had been hanging over her for weeks now, but out of respect for her privacy Dorian had never broached the topic. When she’d returned from Crestwood without her tattoos and a new frosty coolness between herself and Solas he’d swallowed his many questions. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. I will not talk about it.’ he remembered her saying when Sera had asked with her usual tactless manner. Dorian had let the matter rest then, besides there was still the matter of Corypheus and impending doom hanging over their heads. 

“I believe that this can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, we need wine and quite a lot of it” he spoke firmly as he placed the documents, he’d been carrying on the table and made his way to the kitchens. 

Anyara smiled in spite of herself. “I think you’re right, Dorian.” She almost whispered, but he heard her clear enough. 

He returned to the room soon with a basket of bread and cheese and several bottles of Tevinter red. It was a ritual that had begun in the wake of Redcliffe. Dorian had appeared at her door in Haven with two bottles in his hands and a shy grin, “based on the ghastly circles under your eyes I imagine you’re having as much trouble sleeping as I am.” 

She had hesitated for a moment before letting him in, but after so many isolating experiences, at least Dorian knew what nightmares she had experienced in that dark future. He may be a human, and from Tevinter no less, but they would always share those horrors. At least there was someone to share those memories with. 

They drank and cried and remembered next to nothing of it the next day. Yet, the next day, even with a clouded head she felt lighter than she had before. 

They drank again after Haven, the loss of her clan, and his father’s surprise visit to Redcliffe. Dorian had charmed his way into her heart in a way no one else in the inner circle had been able to. It wasn't that they were bad people, in general she enjoyed their company, but she was also the Inquisitor to them. There was a role she was expected to play, and all the training Deshanna had given her made sure she would never forget it. Dorian was the only one who ever saw passed the mask of leadership she wore, and only then behind closed doors and with many glasses of wine. 

They had never discussed Solas. Dorian had attempted to pry, but Anyara wouldn’t budge. She knew Solas wouldn’t approve, and while it still felt so fresh and new and precious, she was protective of the spark between them nurturing it with cupped hands afraid of the gusts of other’s opinions and condemnations. A lot of good it had done her. He was still gone, and once again she was along. 

Dorian arched an eyebrow as he poured two glasses, “usual rules, my darling?” 

She nodded, “nothing leaves the room.” 

Dorian took a deep sip before miming locking a key over his kips and end with a bright spark of flame, “are you finally ready to talk about the tattoo?” 

She stayed silent sipping from the glass formulating how to begin, where to begin. There was a year's worth of memories flashing behind her eyes. “I thought he would come back. I don’t know why I can’t hate him. I wish I could hate him. It would be easier if I was angry. if I could believe he didn’t care, but I know that’s not it.” 

“We all want closure, but we don’t always get it. I recommend a nice bedding to cleanse the palette. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find someone willing to take the mighty Inquisitor to bed. I’m sure there are more than a few bets if any other parts glow.” Dorian said with a smirk 

“You’re awful.” 

“And your favorite” 

She laughed, “clearly all my time in battle has addled my senses.” It felt good to laugh with Dorian. He was always good at distracting her. It made it easier. “I don’t feel like the might Inquisitor. There are days I wake up and it takes me a moment to figure out where I am. I’m not inside the aravel. I can’t hear my clan outside.” She took a deep drink of the wine to cover the break in her voice. 

Dorian was quick to refill her glass and drain his own. That was one of the rules. They kept pace, glass for glass. It felt safer that way. As if they could maintain an equal level of vulnerability and deniability. 

“I kept trying to plan an after. I just needed something to look forward to after all this craziness was done. I’ve lost so many futures. If I hadn’t gone to the conclave, I could be with my clan still. I might even be bonded and have a child. I could have family.” Her words were quiet. 

“Or you could have died with them at Wycomb. If you hadn’t been at the conclave,” a shudder passed over his face, “you remember Redcliffe.” 

“At least I would have been with them. I wouldn’t be alone,” the words burst out of her, one hand rushing to cover her mouth as if shocked by her own outburst. 

“Darling, you’re not as alone as you think. You’re surrounded by men and women who would die for you. I know it can’t be easy to be away from your own people and your own culture.” 

She winced at the underly admonishment in his words. Dorian knew something about that. As the only Tevinter he had endured his own share of mistrusted and whispered comments. 

“Dorian, I” she began, but he cut her off. 

“I think we should finish this glass and then you can tell me what’s really got you so upset.” 

They drained their glasses and Anyara felt the warmth flood through her limbs. 

“The vallaslin is a mark of adulthood. It is a dedication to the gods, to the Dalish way of life, or at least that’s what I was told.” she paused collecting her thoughts. “I don’t know how to begin, Dorian. I don’t know how to make the pieces fit so you’ll understand.” 

“Don’t worry about understanding, that’s not the point of wine, darling. It’s a purge. If it helps, I’ll tell you what I understand so far. I believe you were in love, perhaps are still in love with Solas. Something happened between you and you lost your markings. Now he is gone.” 

“I never said I love him.” 

“you didn’t have to, you were very good at hiding. If we hadn’t shared so much wine over this last year I don’t' know if I would have caught on. Frankly, I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up. I have many many questions.” 

Anyara stared at her friend she shouldn’t have been shocked. She knew there were those among her companions who suspected something between her and Solas. They had tried to be so careful. 

“It’s hardly common knowledge if that helps. I believe there were some particularly salacious rumors going around concerning you and the commander and the top of his desk which probably helped people from catching on,” he said with a wink. 

Anyara was filled with overwhelming gratitude for her friend and shame that she hadn’t trust him earlier. “He told me they were slave markings from the days of Arlathan, and he knew a spell to remove them.” 

“And then?” 

“And then he told me I was beautiful, kissed me and ending things between us.” 

“Excuse me?” Dorian loudly asked. 

“He said he had distracted me from my goal, and that it wouldn’t happen again,” Anyara replied with a halfhearted chuckle. She rose from the table they were sharing and walked to stare out onto the balcony. She wished she could stand there without remembering how his arms felt wrapped around her as his declaration of love echoed in her ears. 

“Well the bald bastard did the smart thing leaving before I could find out.” he followed her to the window, “more wine!” he declared as he poured more into both their glasses and placing the now empty bottle back on the table. 

Anyara drank. “i wish I could be angry, Dorian. I wish I hated him. I do. I just want to see him again He felt like home. Ma vhenan” 

Dorian reached his arms out and pulled her against him. His free hand made small circles on her back giving her time to cry. 

After a few moments, he broke the silence, “it’s a good think I wore these robes. They're much more durable, practically waterproof” 

Her laugh was weak, but it was enough to break the hold her sorrow had over her. 

They drank through the night as Anyara finally shared everything that had unfolded between Solas and herself over the last year eventually curling up together on her large bed. She told him about stolen kisses and confessions, journeys through the fade and endearments spoken in a forgotten tongue. More than anything she told him how Solas had become her hope for after and how lost she felt now. 

“You don’t always have to have an after. It’s just enough to get through today. You're one of the most powerful people in all of Thedas. Plenty of people would have that as an end goal.” 

“And here I am dreaming of wandering ancient ruins in anonymity.” 

“You elves sure are strange creatures.” 

She playfully hit his shoulder before curling back up against him with a yawn, “Dorian?” 

“yes, pet?” 

“I don't want us to forget this time. I think I need to” 

He didn’t let her finish. “of course, my dear. I’m here” 

And for the first time since the conclave Anyara felt like she had a true friend. Dorian made the afer easier. She no longer felt the looming emptiness ahead of her. Anyara fell into her work with renewed purpose. 

There were still nights when see would see him I her dreams, but he was always gone so quickly. She could never be sure if it was jut her own desire or if he was there watching her. Those days were the hardest because she knew that what had existed between them was not dead.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever posted fan fiction. Thank you for reading it and I hope you enjoyed it! I didn't let myself spend too long editing it (in case I lost my nerve to post it), so I apologize for any typos. Would appreciate any feedback any kind readers would like to leave me. I wrote this when drowning in feels after playing Trespasser for the first time. I was incredibly touched by the cut scene with Dorian where you calls the Inquisitor his dearest friend.


End file.
